When the synopsis for Aaron Rodgers: Enigma was first released in September, I feared the worst.
Recovering from a torn Achilles doesn’t exactly make for an intriguing plotline, no matter how unique the main character makes himself out to be. And considering the main character in question, I wasn’t anticipating much self-awareness in what I figured would be just another sports hagiography, complete with the endorsement of co-producer NFL Films.
But while the three-part Netflix docuseries does include plenty of the bullshit that you’d likely expect both a modern sports “documentary” and this particular subject to provide, give Aaron Rodgers: Enigma this much: it isn’t boring. In fact, it’s actually a pretty entertaining watch — so long as you can stomach spending three-plus hours with its namesake.
Then again, as you can probably tell based on the first three paragraphs of this review, I’m not exactly the biggest Rodgers fan either. Like most modern sports fans, I’ve spent the last few years growing increasingly tired of his schtick, especially with his play on the field no longer being worth the weekly headaches he causes off of it.
But while Rodgers may not ever be as interesting as he wants everybody to think he is, he is still undeniably interesting. And not just because he does ayahuasca or decides on a whim to get a dragon tattoo on his inner arm, but also because he’s been one of the NFL’s central figures for the last two decades, a reality that’s often felt like an afterthought these past few years.
If anything, Netflix did Enigma a disservice by promoting it as a series centered on Rodgers’ recovery, which actually plays a relatively minor role in its overall arc. While there is some footage of him rehabbing and making sure his teammates can see him walking without assistance just a few weeks after tearing his Achilles last fall, the injury itself largely stays in the background for most of the three hours, perhaps because he didn’t pull off the miraculous recovery he spent all of last season touting.
Like most modern sports documentaries, the series bounces between past and present, largely remaining on the former. That makes for a nostalgia-rich first episode, featuring footage from his childhood, community college career, time at Cal-Berkeley and, of course, the 2005 NFL Draft.
But for as fun as the first episode is for NFL fans of a certain age (like this author), the main event comes in the second episode, which accompanies Rodgers on an ayahuasca retreat in Costa Rica. Ultimately, the episode — or series, for that matter — doesn’t offer much in terms of insight or revelations. Nevertheless, there’s still something wild about having access to an NFL quarterback while he’s seemingly zonked out of his mind — even if he isn’t doing much more than drumming on a bongo (talk about clichés) while we watch him.
Episode 2 also delves into Rodgers’ longstanding issues with his family and his reputation as a conspiracy theorist. Again, there isn’t much new information here, especially on the heels of the biography that Ian O’Connor released this past year (highly recommended). But if nothing else, tackling such subject matter at least made it clear this wasn’t just another NFL Films puff piece.
Three episodes, however, were likely one too many, as the third episode falls victim to Rodgers’ most annoying qualities. Unsurprisingly, much of the final hour focuses on his COVID-related controversies and breakup with the Packers following the 2021 season, with the future Hall of Famer dutifully playing the role of victim the entire time.
Maybe the new stuff isn’t as interesting because it happened so recently or perhaps it just pales in comparison to the access afforded in episode 2. I suspect, however, that the third episode’s biggest issue is that three consecutive hours is simply too much time to spend with Aaron Rodgers.
Whether you’re a Rodgers fan, hater, or somewhere in between, there isn’t much in Enigma that’s going to change your mind either way. The access alone, however, at least makes for an entertaining watch in what ultimately serves as a time capsule for one of the most captivating, polarizing, often annoying, and — yes, interesting — athletes of our generation.